Playing for keeps
by MorgauseNokami
Summary: “How far were you willing to let that little game go?” he asked her, his breath on her lips. --- Pan wants Trunks, Trunks wants alcohol, and everybody wants to play. T-P oneshot.


Playing for keeps

Pan was sitting on the huge couch in the Briefs' household, hiding in the shadows as much as she could. She and Marron were staying at Bra's, but the other girls had run off to do their hair or try out new make-up or something equally gross and Pan had declined, disgusted. She'd snuck away to the living room where she had found Trunks watching a movie.

He barely knew she was there. He had hardly acknowledged her when she entered the room and was now staring at the TV screen as if it held the secrets of life. The movie could hardly capture her attention, though.

Secretly, from under lowered eyelids, she watched him.

She could not help herself. He used to be her friend, and then suddenly she _saw_ him. Since then, life had been difficult.

If only he wasn't so wonderful. She hated him sometimes, for what he said to her, for how he treated her, but she could not help but forgive him, every time. She could not ignore the fact that his presence seemed to lighten up the whole room, the way his voice made shivers run up and down her spine, the breath he took away when he looked at her.

And she was scared of him. Terrified. She did not know the exact depth of her emotion – no, she _did_ know, subconciously, but that terrified her even more. Whatever she felt was enough to make her feel so terribly weak.

Son Pan was not weak. Son Pan would not be weak. How could she allow herself to let this happen? She had been so determined to never give somebody the opportunity to conquer her, but conquer her he could. She had laid her heart in his hands and was waiting for him to crush it. Oh, how that analogy disgusted her, but it was the only one that fit.

He was crushing it, every day a bit more. He did not know he had it and did not know what he was doing with it. Every time he ignored her, every time he went on a date, every time he talked to her, every time he fought with her, every time he smiled at her or even looked at her, he abused it. She had never thought she would fall in love and it had hit her all the worse. She, the tomboy, the fighter, the strong one, in love with her friend who was fourteen years older than her. Life did not get more unfair than this.

And he was sitting there, watching the movie, oblivious to the fact that her heart raced when she just looked at him. It was ridiculous, really – he was the most important thing in her life, and he did not even know it.

Then he looked over his shoulder. Their eyes locked and Pan breathed in at the familiar buzz, forcing herself to ignore her body.

"I'd forgotten you were here," he said, his smooth voice not corresponding with the look in his eyes.

For a moment she just looked at him, confused. Then she caught herself and looked away, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She was thankful for the darkness in the room.

"I think we need booze," Trunks said, and looked away from her. She breathed out when he stood up and walked to a cupboard, pulling out a dark brown bottle. She caressed his broad shoulders and silky hair with her gaze, willing him to feel it, react to it.

He didn't, of course. He turned around, grinned at her and waved the bottle. "This'll do. Marron and Bra off to do girly stuff?"

She nodded, still not quite able to use her voice. In spite of herself, a voice in the back of her head kept screaming _Trunks! Dark room! Alcohol!_ She knew she would do something stupid if she got drunk and she did not really know if she cared or not. She wanted Trunks to know. Despite her fear, she desperately wanted Trunks to know she was in love with him, to say he felt the same and sweep her off her feet. It would not happen, of course, and she hated herself for even hoping that it would. Hope was much too dangerous when her heart was at stake.

He sat down next to her, opened the bottle and took a big swallow. She rolled her eyes and grinned, finally able to settle into one-of-the-guys mode. "Thirsty, are we?"

He smirked back at her. "Come on Pan, you've got to admit that we seriously lack a life. What better to cure that than alcohol?" He handed her the bottle.

She carefully tasted the liquor. She didn't recognise it, but then again, she wasn't much of a drinker. A bit more certain she took a couple of swigs and handed the bottle back to its owner. "Perhaps going out, meeting people, having fun would do the trick," she suggested to his previous comment.

He groaned loudly. "Oh dear god, no. I have had my share of people today. Besides, alcohol is fun."

She shook her head and smiled at him. "You are going to be one lousy dad, Trunks."

He snorted. "I don't even want to know why your mind went there." He swallowed way too much at once and Pan laughed at him when he choked and started coughing.

"It's not that big a step, really. You thinking alcohol is actually good while we need to get people _off_ the booze," she explained while slamming him on the back. "We wouldn't want any children to be taught _that_."

He glared at her and relaxed, the coughing subsiding. "You need more rum," he stated, and pushed the bottle in her hands. She shrugged her shoulders and lifted the bottle to her lips.

#####

One empty bottle of rum later they were sprawled out on the couch, her legs over his and her head dangerously close to his shoulder. She could smell him, a mixture of alcohol, cologne and that scent that was typically him. She breathed in deeply, savouring the moment.

Half a bottle was not nearly enough to inebriate a saiyan and they both knew it, but it was a perfectly good excuse for acting stupid and it would be a waste to not use that.

"Trunks," she said, turning her head a bit so she could look at him. He was watching her, and to know his dark blue eyes were on _her_ of all people was enough to make her shiver.

He waited for her to continue and when she didn't, he rolled his eyes. "What?!" he demanded, seemingly agitated but she saw the smile in his eyes.

"I think you would make a lousy lover," she stated and then stopped breathing, flabbergasted at her own words.

He stared at her, incredulous. "I don't think I'll _ever_ understand the way your brain works. How on _Earth_ did you get on that topic?!"

She looked at him, just as baffled as him at what she had said. Unfortunately, her mouth would not stop babbling. "I mean, you being so ridiculously hot that every girl throws herself at your feet, you would never have had to work at it. Any girl would just be glad they even _had_ you in their bed."

He was still looking at her, a confused frown on his face. "Not every girl throws herself at my feet," he pointed out. "You didn't."

"Because I think you would make a lousy lover," she argued, her brain still not fully aware that she was having this conversation, let alone comprehending what exactly she was saying.

"Is that a hint?" he asked, his tone light.

She tensed in terror, finally fully realising how her words sounded. Well, if she'd wanted him to know, she'd succeeded. He'd have to be dim-witted to not see through that. Or would he think she was merely teasing him? If that was the case, she would be safe.

He moved a bit and she could feel his muscles tense and un-tense under her legs. She then realised how close they were, exactly, and she flushed again. Although their friendship had always been physically oriented (how could it not, with all their sparring?), every time his skin touched hers, she felt that familiar buzz. It was heaven and hell in one.

When she finally dared to look up at him, he had looked away. She could not help but feel a bit disappointed and inwardly kicked herself for feeling that. His question and her lack of answer still lingered between them and the silence was suddenly very awkward. She sighed and shifted, making a move to get up. She did not know what had gotten them in this position in the first place.

He turned his head to look at her and then grabbed her arm. His eyes had turned serious. "If you want to tease me, Pan, you should not be upset if I tease you back."

She scolded her arm for letting that tingling feeling run up and down its length and grinned at him. "Oh no, Trunks. That was not teasing. _This_ is –" she paused and frowned. "No, never mind. I'd show you what teasing is, but you'd probably take that the wrong way."

The look on his face slowly turned arrogant and he smirked, folding his arms. "You're afraid to."

"Am _not_," she said, aggravated.

"Are too," he countered, smugly. His eyes were awful – captivating in his arrogance, beautiful despite the demeaning look in them.

"Am n- oh fuck this, never mind." She sat up and grabbed his hands, pulling them up and pressing them against the back of the couch, and slid on his lap, a leg on either side of him. "_This_ is teasing," she said, needlessly, and leaned forward to push her cheek, lips, to his throat and mold her body to his.

His voice trembled a bit when he said: "I think I have to agree with you on that one."

She raised her head and looked at him from under lowered eyelids. He was staring at her, his face so blank that she knew he was at a loss of what to do. "I think this definitely _is_ a hint," he finally uttered, his voice still not completely steady.

She rolled off him and threw her hands up in the air, rolling her eyes. "You have _got_ to get off the hints thing!" she exclaimed, exasperated.

He looked at her, frowning. "How else would I have to call it? You were straddling me!"

"You _dared_ me!" she said, scowling at him.

"That is no excuse," he scolded.

"No, but the booze is."

He suddenly grinned at her and nodded. "You've got a point there."

"Of course," she said, folding her arms  and looking at him from under her bangs. "I've always got a point."

"You do?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. She whacked him. "Then what was the point of those hints?"

She groaned and glared at him. "Those weren't hints. _This_ is a hint," she stated and made a come-hither gesture, complete with languid look and lazy wink.

"No, that's an invitation," he deadpanned.

" 'Come and have sex with me' would be an invitation," she said, glaring at him again.

"That was the same without words," he retorted. "And see? You _are_ giving off hints!"

She groaned and leaned back into the couch, looking at the ceiling. "You are _so_ annoying," she muttered. From the corner of her eyes she could see him shoot her a look and she sighed. In one swift movement she'd rolled on top of him, straddling him again. "If I were giving off hints, I'd be doing _this_," she said, looking at him sternly.

"You _are_ doing that," he said, his eyes somewhat wider than usual.

"To show you what I meant," she explained, rolling her eyes, but instead of getting off him she bent over and licked her lips.

He narrowed his eyes. "You have got to stop doing that," he said, a bit breathless.

"Why?" she asked, pressing up against him.

"Because I might do something we both don't really want to," he said, looking at her and away awkwardly.

"We don't?" She stared into his eyes and saw the exact moment his demeanor changed from semi-nervous to dangerous.

"Don't, Pan," he said slowly. "You're playing with fire."

"I've always been a pyromaniac," she replied, laughing lightly. The laughter caught in her throat when she saw the look in his eyes. It was so intense that she froze where she sat, still pressing up against him, her hands on his wrists. She was staring at him, unable to tear her gaze away from his dark blue eyes, blown away by the sudden feeling that they weren't playing anymore.

"Don't, Pan," he said again, his voice hoarse. "If things… it would change everything."

Her mouth was suddenly very dry and she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. "You say that like it's a bad thing," she forced out, not knowing whether she was joking or not. He was right – one more step in that direction and things _would_ change. If only she knew if that _was_ a bad thing. She was afraid to lose him as a friend, yes. On the other hand, there was this gnawing feeling that, if she felt like this, friendship with him was already lost to her.

He kept their eyes locked as she slowly, so very slowly moved her face closer to his. Was she really going to kiss him? She did not know any more than he did.

And then Bra and Marron burst into the room, laughing and talking, and stopped dead in their tracks when they saw Trunks and Pan.

"Is this what I think it is..?" Bra asked slowly, staring at the pair with wide eyes.

"You stupid woman," Trunks thundered, glaring at his sister. "Can't you see that Pan is merely trying to help me up?"

"Up… yeah, I can see that happening," Marron deadpanned. Pan groaned at his bad choice of words and jumped off him, blasting away before any of them could say anything else.

Trunks looked around the room awkwardly and then nodded at the empty bottle of rum on the floor.

Marron and Bra looked at eachother. "Well, that explains a lot," Bra muttered.

Pan ran across the hallway, frantically looking around for a hiding place. Knowing that Bra and Trunks' rooms would not be safe and certain that she did not want to enter Bulma and Vegeta's room, she finally dived into one of the Briefs' bathrooms, kicked the door shut and locked it. She leaned against it, panting, and then slowly slid down until she was sitting, her back against the cool wood.

"I am such an _idiot_," she muttered, clenching her fists. "I haven't paid a single thought to Bra and Marron and _Jesus_, was I really going to kiss Trunks?"

"Knowing you, you probably would," a gruff voice answered and she squealed, horrifyingly girlishly, when Vegeta appeared from the shower cell. Stark naked.

She felt her face flush and she whipped around, hiding her face behind her hands."Vegeta! Couldn't you have said you were in here?!" she shouted.

"You were too busy talking to yourself," the man answered, not at all fazed. She heard him move around and hoped he was getting a towel. "Besides, I'd think the whole damp-air-wet-floor thing would be enough of a warning."

Pan carefully looked over her shoulder, saw to her relief that Vegeta had indeed bound a towel around his waist, and proceeded to glare at the man. He merely smirked at her and exited the room.

Pan stared daggers at his back and kicked the door shut once again, sorely tempted to kick through the thick wood. Knowing that that would only serve to get her in more trouble, she decided against it and sat down on the damp floor again.

She was not safe, she knew. More sooner than later either Bra and Marron or Trunks would come up here and talk to her, and there was nowhere inside Capsule Corps. where she could hide. She could leave, yes, but that would only result in a confrontation outside the huge dome – neither saiyans nor this particular human were prone to giving up anything, let alone something as interesting as her straddling Trunks in the living room.

She groaned. Why in the living room, of all places? It was too tempting to use the liquor as an excuse, but as it were only the intoxicating proximity to Trunks was some kind of resemblance to an explanation.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and held her breath. Who would be coming up?

Trunks. She breathed out and closed her eyes. She would recognise his tread anywhere.

She knew he would be feeling out her ki and she knew it was too late to bother and hide it. Only when he opened the door she admitted to herself that yes, it would have been smarter to actually lock it.

She did not bother to turn around and look at him. Feeling his ki alone was enough to know where exactly he was and she did not need to see him to know what he looked like.

"Pan," he said. When she did not answer him or turn around to look at him, he walked around her. She stared at his jean-clad legs and slowly let her gaze travel upwards to his face. He was looking at her, his blue eyes slightly narrowed. No emotion showed on his face and hers should mirror that, for her pride's sake, but she knew it did not. She stood up, though she not quite trusted her legs.

She was completely and utterly at a loss of what to do. Nothing she could say or do could undo everything that had happened this evening. She had made a fool out of herself, not only telling Trunks that she wanted him but throwing herself at him when she was at it. She could try and continue her actions, but now it was not a game anymore and probably would never be again. She should not have played with him or herself like that, and it was only fair that she would get burned now.

She bit the inside of her cheek. But he did not know everything. He now knew she was interested, yes, but he did not know that she had already given all. Despite this night, he did not know her heart was at stake.

"You seem to be done with the teasing?" he said, finally.

"Not necessarily," she answered, not quite convincing herself.

He only looked at her. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?" he asked, not sarcastic but jut to the point.

"Just that," she said, shrugging her shoulders and fumbling with her hands. She could not remember a time when she had felt more uncomfortable and awkward this moment.

He was still looking at her, his gaze so intense that she wondered if he wanted to look through her instead of at her. He probably did.

"How much of what you said tonight was just teasing?" he finally questioned. His face was still a mask and she swallowed, suddenly, unreasonably, afraid of him.

"I don't think you're a lousy lover, truth be told," she answered honestly, her voice only shaking a little.

He suddenly chuckled, relieving some of the tension in the room. "Good, because I don't think I am, either."

"That's what most men think," Pan huffed. "I don't _know_ if you are or aren't."

His grin faded and the tension returned tenfold. "That does sound like a hint," he said, eyes darker than before.

"I told you to get _off_ the hints thing,"  Pan muttered, rolling her eyes. "You're just hearing what you want to hear."

He stared at her, his eyes searching her face. She could feel her cheeks flushing. "Perhaps I am," he said, silently.

Her eyes darted around, saw damp floor and damp air, the mirror fogged over, water droplets gliding down the black tiles on the wall. Anything not to look at him. What was that supposed to mean? The only thing she feared more than him _not_ returning her feelings was him _returning_ them, and this comment sounded way too much like he wanted her to be interested.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" she blurted out, too hasty for any kind of irony.

He shrugged, suddenly looking all too helpless. "I don't have a clue. I do know however that I really did not like Bra and Marron walking in on us."

"Because you don't want to be seen like that with me or because..." she trailed off, not daring to voice the other option.

He nodded, but she did not know what he agreed with. He stepped closer to her, however, and she tried to keep her attention on what she wanted to ask him but his body heat and his scent were horribly distracting.

"How far were you willing to let that little game go?" he asked her, his breath on her lips. She tried to keep her mind clear of thoughts of lips and tongues and saliva, but it was no use. _Very far if you're standing this close,_ she wanted to answer, but instead she breathed in shakily and stepped back. He followed her suit and she was trapped between the door and him, and how had his hand found her neck and shoulder and was his mouth coming closer and closer and dear god what was he doing with his fingers that felt _so_ good?

"I love you," she blurted out before his lips could touch hers. "I ... you have to know what you are playing with, Trunks, if you want to play that game. You should know it's not just my pride at stake, or your reputation."

He was silent, then, and, although physically close, suddenly a million miles away. His eyes were wider now, genuinely surprised, though she could not understand that he had never known it before. His bangs tickled her forehead, but she had her arms tight by her sides, her fists clenched.

"Not that I'm opposed to playing..." she finished, lamely. Before the man in front of her could come up with a decent reply, she twisted from under his arms and sneaked out the door, then ran off the stairs as fast as she could.

Ofcourse she had to bump into Bra, sending the blue-haired girl and the bowl of chips she had been holding flying, spilling the chips all through the hallway. The girls lay on the floor in a messy heap, groaning.

"Pan," Bra said, glaring when she pushed the girl off her arms, "no matter _what_ my brother just said, it can't be bad enough for you to make all this mess."

"It's not when he's talking when things go bad," Pan grumbled, trying to untangle her legs from Bra's. "And by the way, I was busy avoiding you." She picked herself up from the floor and continued her run through the house, ignoring Bra's screeching "Oh don't you dare and leave me to clean this up by myself!"

The kitchen was obviously not a safe place in a house full of saiyans. The living room was off limits since Marron was there. The guest rooms were upstairs but Pan could not go back on her tracks and face Bra again. That left the gravity room, but her ki sense told her that the saiyan prince was training there and he would not like to be disturbed.

She looked at the window next to her, staring into the dark night. Or she could always leave the building.

She shook her head. Why was she running? She had never been a coward. She just did not know how to face Trunks after telling him what she just did.

"Great job, Panny-girl, now you'll never be friends again," she muttered to herself, biting her lip. "And the worst of all is, I don't think I can use the alcohol as an excuse anymore by now." She snorted, envisioning the scene in her head. _'No really Trunks, I said that? Boy, I must've been_ really _drunk then. Don't remember a thing, ahaha!'_

"Pan? I heard your voice!"

Damn. Pan squeaked at hearing Bra's voice and panicked.Whereto? Out of the window, then! With inhuman speed she moved out of the window and into the cool, dark night, hiding her ki as well as she could. It seemed to work; Bra was not following her. She could feel her friend's ki move away from her as the girl undoubtedly was still looking for her.

She sighed. Great, now she was trapped outside. Why _didn't_ she go home, really?

She tried to feel out Trunks' ki, but failed. Apparently the demi-saiyan did not want to be found, either.

Silently, she hovered to his window. It was opened and she stared into his room, sighing at the memories each object stirred. She was going to miss him.

Just as she turned around, something tapped her shoulder. She almost dropped out of mid-air in shock. Trunks was hovering in behind her, an indefinable look in his eyes. For a moment they just stared at eachother and Pan held her breath, certain that if she said something, anything, she would lose him forever.

Finally he smirked at her. "Tag, you're it," he said and blasted off.

Without thinking she raced after him.

They had reached the wild lands before she, with a quick burst of power, caught up with him. She was flying too fast to gently tag him and slammed into him with her full body. Quickly recovering, she shouted "You're it!" and blasted off again. He followed suit.

She did not know where she was when he had finally caught up with her, cheating and turning super saiyan. He grabbed her by her leg in mid-air and in a last try to escape she let herself drop down to the ground. Instead of letting go however he pushed more power into their descent, causing them to slam into the cool grass with him landing on her. The air was forced out of her lungs and for a few eternal moments she could only gasp, squeaking pathetically.

When her lungs finally remembered the concept of breathing out, she turned her eyes to Trunks, determined to shout at him at least as loud as Bulma usually did. But unfortunately she then realised the exact position they were in, and although once again familiar with the general idea of breathing, stopped doing it.

Trunks was lying on top of her, slightly pushing himself up on his lower arms to be able to look at her. His eyes were boring into hers and she could feel his body heavy on hers, pressing into her in all the right places. His hot breath was on her lips as his scent washed over her.

"If I'd ever imagined you under me, panting, it certainly would never have been like _this_," he said, deadpan.

She shoved him off her and jumped up, positively livid. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and chuckled, successfully infuriating her more.

"I can't _believe_ you," she seethed, clenching her fists tightly. "I can't _believe_ you would play with my feelings like this!"

He looked at her, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I believe you said that you were not opposed to playing..?" It was a statement, not a question.

"Not like _that_," she growled, baring her teeth.

Faster than human eyes would be able to see he moved in front of her, so close that his toes touched hers and his bangs tickled her forehead. "Then how do you want to play, Pan?" he asked her, his voice low.

She answered him by pulling his face down and pressing her lips to his.

For a moment, the whole world existed of lips and tongues and the exquisite things that could be done with both. Then he pulled her flush against his body and the world as she had previously known it ceased to exist.

#####

Pan lay on her side, her legs tangled with Trunks', her head on his upper arm. He was facing her but his eyes were closed in sleep, his lashes dark against his cheeks and the slightest hint of a smile on his sharp features. She had dozed, but only for a moment. Now she was awake as ever.

She looked at him, caressing his face with her gaze, then reached out to trace his cheek and jaw with her index finger.

The world as she had previously known it _had_ ceased to exist.

He had not told her he loved her.

He had kissed her with a passion that rivaled hers. He had made love to her like noone had before. He had called her name at the peak of his desire. But he had not told her he loved her.

She breathed in shakily, pulling her hand back to let it rest on his chest.

She was absolutely at a loss of what would happen. Everything depended on if this had been purely lust-based for him or not. If it was not, they would have to face their family and friends, the media and the whole world, confident that this was what they wanted. He would have to fight her father to save himself from the demi-saiyan's wrath. She would have to fight Vegeta to prove she was worthy of mating his son. They would have to deal with their family and friends, curious and possibly even prejudiced as to the how and why of their relationship.

And if it was...

They would never be friends again. No matter which way things would go, they would never be just friends again.

He was looking at her, had probably been so for a while. When she finally noticed him, he smiled at her. "It's getting cold."

"It's the night thing. It happens." She did not move but instead stared up at him. His eyes were dark in the moonlight, his lashes casting long shadows on his cheekbones. Everything screamed at her, inside her, and the silence of the night seemed like a ridiculously thin veil between what was and what would be.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice soft. He reached out to touch her shoulder, let his fingers slip down her arm to her hand, covering it with his bigger one.

"I'm now quite sure that you're not a lousy lover," she replied, and smiled when he chuckled. She was not up to smirking yet, not now. Not when he held her heart in his hands, contemplating what he should do with it.

They were looking at eachother for a long time. Her eyes searched his face for a sign, any sign, that would determine his feelings for her, but he had inherited his father's ability to keep his face completely emotionless at all times and she could not read him, not even now.

"You're shivering," he finally said,  concerned, and sat up to grab the first piece of clothing  within hand's reach. It turned out to be her shirt and he handed it to her, suddenly appearing bashful.

She took it from him and put it on without saying a word. This was it, then? He was going to let her leave without ever mentioning tonight's events again?

She proceeded to pull on her pants, not sure where her panties were. He was sheepishly picking up his own clothing, putting on his jeans when he had discovered them in the high grass. His underwear was, like hers, nowhere to be found in the darkness.

She did not bother to wait until he was finished dressing and stood up, then hesitated. "Goodnight, Trunks," she said, her voice hoarser than she intended. Biting her lip, she levitated.

His hand on her arm stopped her ascent. He had jumped in the air after her and now looked at her, his eyes boring into hers. The pale moonlight shimmered over his hair and skin and made him heartbreakingly beautiful.

"Come home with me, Pan," he said, touching her cheek, lips, chin, with his other hand, his eyes still fixed on hers.

"You're sounding a bit like a neanderthal man there, Trunks," she answered, forcing her voice to be as deadpan as his was so often. "Next thing I know you'll be simply grabbing me and dragging me to your cave."

His eyes danced as he answered her. "Is that a hint?"

"Not with the dragging it's not," she countered, unable to keep a grin from showing on her face.

Before she knew what he was doing he had pulled her in his arms and blasted off in the direction of Capsule Corps. For a moment she just looked at him, incredulous, baffled that he would think he would ever be able to carry her, force her to be girlish, and get away with it. But then she had to admit to herself that it _was_ very nice to feel his strong arms holding her so close. She saw the grin on his lips and knew he thought he _would_ be able to get away with it. 

She smirked to herself. No harm in letting him think that. The games had only just begun.

#$#$#$#

AN: And she's back with the short T/P stories. Wrote this when I got stuck on YWBM, which I do regularly. Written on a whim, with no plot whatsoever. Every time Pan or Trunks were at a loss of what to do, I was too grins It was fun to let the story lead me...

Anyway, my only excuse for this is that I had watched 'Four weddings and a funeral'. Apparently that makes me want to write romance with slightly funny scenes in it. shakes head

As usual betaed by the lovely Noseless Wonder.


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